Deathly Whispers
by Embersprite
Summary: Harry Potter Master of Death has been deaged and tossed into the world of Death Note. How will he take to being a child again?( hint: not well) Can he make it through Wammy's house without causing chaos? ( hint: heck no) Come and watch the fireworks.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hello! I feel I should warn readers that this story, for me, is a bit of a game. I have found that my biggest weakness in my writing is that I am intimidated by writing dialog. This story is my attempt at ending that. So it might end up being really really bad. I am hoping that my readers will help me with this. Constructive criticism would be an enormous blessing. Especially as this is not betaed. And yes I know this chapter had no dialog in it. The next might not either. Also yes this is a crossover. I just need to punt Harry across universes. That will probably not happen until chapter three or four depending. Also, the chapters probably won't be this long every time. I will also be playing fast and freely with Harry's childhood, future, and everything that goes on in death note. So if something or someone seems different and if some things happen or don't and of NOTHING happens as it did in canon or is just changed my excuse is ... um... magic. So there. I never understand how people can do these crossovers and almost nothing changes. It makes no sense The romance will be slash this will not change. I am thinking Harry/L but that could change. So thank you all in advance for your understanding. : D

In which Harry is moving on and Ronald is a dick.

LINE BREAK

Things after the war had gone quite well for Harry Potter. He had returned the elder wand to Dumbledore's tomb, adding half a dozen wards to the damn thing, cheerfully forgot where he had dumped the resurrection stone in the forest, and wandered off to help with the wounded.

The cloak he kept, it was his after all.

Reconstruction of the school was both better and worse than expected. Except for the room of requirement on the seventh floor, which strangely seemed to be fixing itself, only the first three floors of the school had sustained significant damage. The significant damage, however, was _significant._ Only the magic imbued into every inch of the school was keeping the castle from falling down on their heads due to the lack of walls.

Not certain how they were going to fix this sort of mass destruction Harry had naively volunteered to scout out whatever passed for wizarding builders. After being laughed at Harry found out that there was no such thing as contractors in the wizarding world. Even Hogwarts was built by muggles. Right before the founders kicked them out and enchanted the place.

The answer, it turned out, was the goblins. They were capable and, for a few minor boons, willing to rebuild the school. Harry spent a good deal of that summer at Gringotts tied up in negotiations. The goblins had been surprisingly understanding when it came to the break in. Harry spent a rather lot of time walking the guards through how they had managed to pull off what was thought to be impossible to prevent a repeat performance but it could have been much worse. He had been sort of expecting an execution attempt.

It probably would have come to that if it had not been for two things. One: Voldemort had killed a rather lot of goblins. The goblins declared war on the dark lord five and a half minutes before Harry had broken into the Lestrange vault. Two: Harry was destroying a Horcrux made by the dark lord they were at war with which made Harry an ally. Harry not knowing this meant nothing.

The goblin army had not gone to the battlefield solely because they had not known of the battle until it was too late.

They were more than happy to rebuild Hogwarts in return for a boatload of gold, all of which was donated by affluent citizens. Harry had personally commissioned and paid for a large golden memorial to sit on the lawn at the front of the castle etched with the names of everybody regardless of side or race that had been killed in what was coming to be known as the two blood wars. Right at the bottom was the name Harry James Potter. Harry refused to speak of it.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville had joined Luna and Ginny for their seventh year when the doors had opened again in November. From there, for Harry, it was NEWTS and then Auror training. While he never became truly comfortable in his own skin and continued hiding behind ugly clothing and hideous glasses as a defense mechanism and shield and despite his final, though friendly, break up with Ginny at the end of the year he was mostly happy.

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Ronald had chosen not to return to Hogwarts. He had instead moved back in with his parents. He spent the year "mourning" the loss of his brother and "recovering" from the war.

After her graduation, Hermione had allowed him to move in with her while he found a job. When he had found out that being a "war hero", much to his indignation, was not a substitute for test scores to get into Auror training he tried out for the keeper position for the Chudley Cannons. Unfortunately, his uneven keeping ability caused the managers to choose someone else.

Meanwhile, his problems at home were growing. Hermione was both pregnant and sick of Ron mooching off of her meager entry level paychecks. Sure she was on a fast track career with the department of international magical cooperation but even she had to start on the bottom. She gave him a choice: a job within two weeks or he could leave. And no as things stood she would absolutely not be marrying him.

He left. Lavender Brown was happy to buy his sob story about his broken heart at first. She was thrilled to have him around for dates and in her bed. She expected very little of him. Until she too became pregnant. Then she and her parents demanded that he man up and pay up. It was only when she was two months along and he moved back in with his parents that she found out that Hermione was four months pregnant with a girl.

Mrs. Wealsey was furious. She forced George to give Ronald a job and spent all the time that she wasn't doting on the girls lecturing him on becoming a man.

Goerge was less than pleased with his unwanted and very lazy employee and used him as a product tester.

Ronald, in desperation, turned his attention back toward his old Auror aspirations and finally took his NEWTS. Sadly despite managing to get an exceeds expectations in Defense and Charms he failed Potions, History, and Astronomy with dreadfuls and barely scraped an acceptable in Transfiguration. Maybe he should have studied.

He wiled away the next several years miserably. He hardly saw his children, he was broke, and despite his litany of excuses, everybody snubbed him. Even Harry and Ginny had taken Hermione's side. Lavender had been thrilled to be absorbed into such a tight-knit group of friends. Her son Gerald was happily raised, and spoiled, alongside Hermione's daughter Evanora.

He needed a plan.

After a lot of considering and even more planning he decided to use the only trump card that he could think of.

He knew where all of the deathly hallows were and nobody would keep the master of death out of Auror training. Hell, they would be begging him to join. He just had to gather them first.

End


	2. Ron is a dolt and Harry has the Hallows

Ronald Weasley found retrieving the resurrection stone to be incredibly easy. All he had to do was walk into the forbidden forest and summon it. Apparently, any protective enchantments that were on it were destroyed with the destruction of the Horcrux and nobody had deemed it important to replace them. It had to be a sign.

Ronald Weasley was meant for greatness.

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

Within the forbidden forest, a large group of centaurs gazed at the sky. History was being made, it had been a long time in coming.

Mars was bright.

The wizards that knew of the centaur's predictions had erroneously decided that it had to do with the blood war. Humans were notoriously terrible at divining the future. Why just look at how they misinterpreted the Harry James Potter prophecy. They actually thought that the dark lord in question was that Voldemort human. Though they supposed it wasn't entirely the human's fault. They only received such incomplete prophecies.

Was it really so impossible that the prophecy could have spoken of a different dark lord?

Harry Potter had a very important and long future ahead of him.

The centaurs stood together in their forest watching the beginning of its form in the sky.

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

The Hallow that Ronald truly wanted was next on his list. After all, the only thing guarding it was a dead guy.

The problem was he couldn't seem to open Dumbledore tomb.

The thing had been enlarged after the war. The damage Voldemort had done to it bad enough that the entire thing needed replacing. Now it was an old fashioned walk in crypt. Only he couldn't seem to walk in.

Tugging on the door didn't work. Alohamora did nothing. Getting angry and kicking it didn't work either, though he now had a rather distracting pain in his foot. Now what?

Taking a deep breath Ronald stood back and glared at the tomb. It was galling being just feet from his goal and being unable to breach the damn thing. Its pristine white walls were mocking him.

So he couldn't get in through the front. Well, that was fine, in chess sometimes you had to go about things sideways to breach an opponent's defenses.

He walked around and stood next to the longer side of the tomb, out of sight of the castle windows.

Raising his wand he pointed it at the gleaming marble and shouted "reducto!"

A very small amount of stone was blasted off. Apparently, he thought with a smirk, nobody bothered to ward the sides. It might take a while, but this would work.

Pleased to be making progress once again he raised his wand once more and shouted "reducto!"

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

Hundreds of miles away Harry Potter woke with a start.

Heart pounding he leaped off of his bed wand in hand. What had woken him? He took quick stock of the situation. There was nobody in his room with him. A strange sensation jolted through him again. And again a few seconds later. What was going on? Was someone in the house? He didn't think so but there was an easy way to find out.

"Kreacher!" he called.

Appearing with a pop Kreacher asked, "What can Kreacher be doing for Master Harry?"

"Kreature is there anybody in the house besides us?", Harry asked with a twinge as the strange sensation repeated itself.

Shaking his head hard enough to send his ears flapping Kreacher replied "No Master Harry. There is being no one here. There is flashy lights in the library Master Harry. Flashy ward lights be making nasty buzzing noise Master Harry. Flashy lights be bothering the portraits, Master Harry."

"Thank you Kreature. That will be all." Harry replied before taking off running toward the Black family library. Wards? Harry had precious few things that he had tied wards to.

Rushing down the stairs and bursting through the door Harry swiftly turned to the shelf stocked with his few ward anchors. A small silver bowl that had once been filled with lemon drops was flashing wildly and letting off an angry buzzing sound. This ward was the oldest one Harry had cast. It was tied to Dumbledore's tomb as a way of warning Harry of Hallows hunters should the story get around. He had gone to great lengths to quash the story of the Hallows involvement in the final battle. How had someone heard of it? Harry reckoned it was best to go find out.

Stopping only to throw on some clothing, grab his auror kit, shove his invisibility cloak into his magically enlarged pocket, and snap off a Patronus to the DMLE in hopes of backup, Harry apparated to the front gates of Hogwarts with a sharp crack.

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

He had done it. Grinning tiredly Ronald Weasley reached forward and snatched the elder wand from Albus Dumbledore's stiff fingers. Swiftly turning away from the dead headmaster he ran his hands along it savoring the fact that he, not Harry, had the power of two Deathly Hallows.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the resurrection stone and held the Hallows together in one hand. Cold black stone reflected the white light from his wand while the mute black of wood seemed to absorb it entirely. Even together they didn't look that impressive. But Ron knew better.

These items were going to make him powerful. They were going to make Ronald Weasley a somebody. All he needed was to get the cloak. But surely that couldn't be so hard? Harry always had the cloak on him after all. He used it for his Auror work. Now that he had the elder wand it should be easy to take the cloak from Harry.

Ron paused at that thought. Was he really going to attack Harry and steal his father's cloak? Harry was awfully attached to the thing. But Harry wasn't really Ron's friend anymore was he? He never really came to visit Ron. And when he did turn up for the Weasley family Sunday night suppers he spent all his time playing with the ever growing in number Weasley sprogs and ignored Ron completely. Just because Hermione had spun some ridiculous story about him being a bad parent.

How bad of a parent could he be? He hardly even saw the brat.

No, the Potter family had had the cloak long enough. It was the Weasley's turn.

Walking towards the hole he had made in the wall Ron wondered when he should confront his old friend.

It would happen sooner than he reckoned however because as he climbed out of the tomb he heard Harry's voice shouting at him.

"Aurors! Drop the wand and put your hands in the air!"

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

As soon as he arrived at Hogwarts Harry took off running toward the lake in the direction of Dumbledore's tomb.

Not knowing what he was running towards he was relieved to see McGonagall racing his direction from the castle proper. The distant cracks of apparation were even more welcome.

Skidding to a stop he paused to catch his breath and wait for his backup to arrive.

The headmistress approached him wand drawn and pointed at him.

Harry quickly raised his hands in surrender.

"Someone is robbing Dumbledore's grave," Harry stated quickly sounding for all the world like a tattling student.

"No!" She gasped a swung around to point the wand at the crypt. "Well," she snapped " lets go and show them what we think of grave robbers than ."

Together along with auror Simmons and Harry's partner, Seamus Finnigan, they approached the tomb. Someone was climbing out of it.

Wanting to end things before they began Harry pointed his wand at the culprit and yelled his standard "Aurors! Drop the wand and put your hands in the air!"

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

Ronald was not ready for this confrontation but one had to work with what they had. Harry was here. Which meant Harry's cloak was here. Ron could work with this. He had the elder wand after all. It had worked for Grindelwald when he had stolen it from Gregorovich so it should work for Ron.

He never had the chance to try.

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

When Harry saw that the shadowy figure wasn't surrendering he hit them with a disarming jinx.

Elder wand and resurrection stone flew towards him and on instinct, he caught them both

For the first time in history, all three Hallows were in physical possession of the same person at the same time.

Harry disappeared in a rainbow of wild magic a pain as his mind began to expand expand expand.

END

AN: So the Hallows are together and Harry is becoming the genius I need him to be. After all, I can't have Harry the Dolt running around a genius factory now, can I? Only one more chapter before I send him on. I won't update this quickly normally but really want to get all of this Harryverse stuff out of the way. I'm afraid I am rather impatient for it. Which is odd because I had zero plans for what I will be doing to him there?


	3. Nice Try and Goodbye

_Ritual room, location unknown:_

Harry didn't remember being this... pretty the first time he was six years old.

Grimacing at his less than impressive reflection, he adjusted the final mirror in the perfectly circular room.

He was tiny for one. Delicate bones highlighting pale skin and fine features he might have been able to deal with alone but did he have to be so damn short? Even Evanora had been bigger than this at six and she was by far the tiniest person in the enormous Weasley-Granger-Brown-Lupin-Balck-Longbottom-Scamander family.

Tiny fingers protesting, Harry dragged a large heavy stone bowl onto a premarked section on the floor, shifting it several times to get it into the right runic alignment.

His hair, while still an impossible to control mess, was a riot of gleaming jet black curls twisting this way and that despite his, admittedly half-hearted, attempts to tame it. Perhaps he had somehow botched the de-aging potion? It seemed unlikely, he had come a long way with his potion skills in the last fifty-six years, but he supposed it was possible. More likely it was further magical interference by those blasted Hallows. With his luck, it was both.

Grunting with effort Harry began aligning stones as tall as he was along the outside of the circle he had created, each pulsing a different colored glow. Goosebumps erupting on his skin every time he touched one, he double checked each placement to be certain they were perfectly balanced.

The worst new feature, in his opinion, was his eyes.

He had always found comfort in sharing his mother's eyes. He had always felt, perhaps illogically, that they were physical proof of her love for him. He liked to imagine that every time he saw them his mother was staring back at him, watching over him from beyond the grave.

Now though his eyes, long since freed from the need for glasses, had changed. People had often told him he had "Glowing green eyes." It was, he supposed, meant to be a complement. Now it was far too literal, they were now practically luminescent!

He looked, for all the world, like one of the fae of old had come wandering out of the forest!

Big jewel-like emerald shaded eyes sparkled in irritation at the thought of the change that had come over him. Hopefully, the aging potion he had waiting for him in his bedroom would cure him of these unwanted changes.

Shaking off his sudden irrational urge to cry he took one last long look around him. The ritual set up was as perfect as it was going to get.

Calmly pouring his premade potion into the stone bowl, causing the runes on its sides to light up, he checked the time.

Three more minutes.

He climbed into the freezing liquid and, with cupped hands, scooped handfuls of it onto himself, being certain to cover his entire naked body in the slightly viscous solution.

Checking the time once more he scrambled out of the bowl.

Thirty seconds.

Hoping beyond hope that this ritual would work he counted down the seconds til eleven fifty-eight pm. The moment of his birth seventy-seven years ago.

Fifteen seconds.

Harry wondered what would happen if he failed.

Ten seconds.

He wouldn't fail. He refused.

Five seconds.

He did feel rather guilty, though. Someone somewhere was going to pay the price for this and it was almost definitely going to be someone who would never completely understand what had been done to them.

Three seconds.

It was too late to second guess things, however. And, selfishly, he didn't really want to anyway.

It was time.

Harry took a deep breath and started chanting.

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 _Fifty-Six years earlier, nowhere:_

 _Harry was nowhere. Was it possible to be nowhere? It had to be because that was where Harry was. And wasn't._

 _His absent brain desperately tried to interpret the signals Harry's nonexistent eyes were sending it. It failed._

 _Was it dark here? Was it light? No. Neither. It also wasn't hot, cold, or warm._

 _He was lying down, but only because he was not sitting or standing. There was no floor or sky. Up and down had no meaning. There was nothing around him, but there was no_ nothing _either. There was no him. Can you exist without existence? Obviously, because Harry did not exist but he was lying down all the same._

 _There was nothing and no nothing._

 _No that was wrong too. There was one thing. No, there was two._

 _There was pain. Pain pain pain. And... and..._

 _There was a man standing over him._

 _It was hard to take in his features through the haze of rainbowed agony, but Harry couldn't help but think that the stranger looked a rather lot like a bigger taller Sirius._

 _The man didn't do anything, he just stared down at The-Harry-That-Wasn't looking amused. Like Harry's non-presence was the most hilarious joke ever told. It made him look like Sirius even more._

 _Hot-not-hot pain blossomed like flowers all over Harry's not-body making him not-cry out._

 _The stranger, apparently unable to hold it back any longer, let out a sharp bark of laughter._

 _As the nonexistent nothingness dissolved into nothing the man spoke._

 _"Welcome Master."_

 _And then there was nothing._

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 _Ritual room, location unknown:_

Power buzzed in the air as Harry's chanting continued unabated. Magic crackled all around him swirling in ever more rapid whorls flinging his curly hair about his face wildly as he fought to control the increasing swells.

Struggling to contain the magic he had called forth he slowly, so slowly, forced it to the exact center of the room where carved on the floor hundreds in intricate glowing runes waited for their final charge.

Trembling with the effort involved he pushed the energy with his entire mind, almost collapsing with relief when it settled into its designated position.

Something was wrong. So far every aspect of the ritual had gone perfectly but he was already becoming too tired. He was becoming slightly panicked and that wouldn't do. He had not factored his new diminutive form into the calculations accurately. He should have given his body time to adjust before he had begun, but he knew that was impossible. He needed to complete both aspects of the ritual before his new six-year-old emotions and mind finished catching up to him. He needed this temporary form for the ritual to work, but his energy was flagging and he was becoming very frightened of the magic around him. He grit his teeth and pressed on, he wasn't even quite half way done but he refused to give up. This was his only chance.

Taking a deep breath he strode forward, trembling hands raised and began the final chant that would rip a whole between this universe and another.

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 _Forty-three years ago, Black Family Master Bedroom:_

 _He couldn't keep living like this._

 _The pain in his head was killing him. Not really killing him, he wasn't that lucky, but it felt like his brain was liquefying into magma._

 _Becoming the Master of death was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Yes, it came with some interesting new abilities, but none of them were worth the pain that it caused._

 _When one studies Occlumency it is a slow process. Every day for months you would meticulously go through every thought, memory, experience, and bit of knowledge that you had ever had and carefully sort each one into a predetermined place in your head. It is exacting and personal. Each mindscape is carefully chosen and built as a place that the student feels safe and protected, un ultimate mental sanctuary. It is absolutely not recommended to rush through the process for fear of the mental damage that can be caused. A malformed mindscape is a dangerous thing._

 _The moment he had touched the Hallows magic, death magic, had torn through his mind like a savage beast sorting every bit of his knowledge and being and forcing his mind to contort into a formation that was absolutely not of Harry's choosing all in the span of a few seconds. His mind was now an enormous fortress. A vast expanse where every thought, every feeling, any bit of input from the outside world, was analyzed from every angle and then cross referenced with what was already in his mind before being tucked away in neat organization at blinding speed never to be forgotten._

 _It was a gift in some ways. Harry now had hundreds of memories of his parents, and even his grandparents. He now had the memories of being loved and cared for that he had yearned for his entire life._

 _Unfortunately, it came at the price of being a virtual stranger in his own mind and sometimes it became debilitatingly overwhelming._

 _All around the outside edges of his mind voices called to him in tounges that he often could not understand. Sometimes he could, and they gave him desperately needed advice and information in a laughing clear man's voice that Harry almost recognized but couldn't quite place. Most times it was indecipherable, just whispered random babbling that sounded like madness personified._

 _Sometimes it wasn't whispers and Harry ended up like this, curled up in a pitch black room head pounding and begging for death as agony ripped through his mind and horrendous voices shrieked in his head like every Fury and Banshee that had ever existed had decided that the inside of his head was the place to wage war tearing into his brain with white hot anger._

 _More than once Harry had tried to kill himself to end the pain. It never worked. No matter what he tried death was forever out of his grasp, but he could not live like this. Something had to be done._

 _LINE BREAK LINE BREAK_

 _Ritual room, location unknown:_

He had done it. The first half of the ritual was complete.

Before him on the ground was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. Furious magic tore the very fabric of reality in an angry slash on the floor crackling and snapping in seeming displeasure at its own forced actions.

Staring through the whole in space showed little of interest in and of itself. All he could see through it was normal open space and then the ground about twenty meters below. He could see grass and a few trees, but little else. That was fine, it didn't matter, he wasn't going down there after all. Who cared what was down there? Not Harry. No, this portal had a specific purpose, and Harry, though approaching exhaustion, eagerly began the final half of the ritual.

The thought of his impending freedom was enough to keep him on his feet as he once more began chanting, but this time with a smile on his face.

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

 _Twenty-one years earlier, Department of Mysteries MOM:_

 _It was frustrating being so close and yet at the same time so far from a solution to his problems. He had, after years of intense research, found a was to remove the Deathly Hallows that had wrapped around his soul._

 _And that is exactly where they were. He could feel them there with every breath he took, with every beat of his heart, with every spell he cast. The moment after he had touched them the Hallows had disappeared in a burst of rainbow magic, dissolving and sinking in past his skin burrowing deeper and deeper until they braided themselves snuggly around his soul. They had not taken physical form since._

 _He no longer needed a wand, in fact, he could no longer use one at all as there was no way for them to connect with his magic. It all came so easily now, though. He could cast most spells without so much as a gesture anymore, the Elder Wand had seen to that._

 _He never needed a disillusionment charm anymore either. With just a thought he was able to vanish entirely leaving him invisible to not just the eye but also to wards. He had kept this to himself though for fear of the repercussions. His fellow Unspeakables were scary enough about his powers without making it that much worse. He could end up on the dissection table if he wasn't careful. They were already taking more physical samples of him than he cared for in hopes of determining why he had stopped aging when his magic matured at twenty-five._

 _His greatest secret from them though was the numbers. Ever since the Resurrection Stone had touched his soul he had been able to see the names and death dates of everyone around him. But that wasn't all. Not long after he had acquired the ability he had noticed Teddy, who had been three at the time, was not going to live to see his fourth birthday. Horrified Harry had mentally railed against the fact, furious that the despicable likes of Draco Malfoy, imprisoned in Azkaban for the rape and murder of dozens of muggle born girls during the war, would live while his sweet little godson would die. He had then watched stunned as Teddy's life gained an extra hundred and thirty-six years right in front of his eyes. Three months later Draco Malfoy slipped in his cell and died instantly. Two years after that he accidentally gave Andromeda an extra seventy-five more years and watched as she actually physically de-aged. He had obliviated her and staged an unexplained magical accident to blame the effect on. After that, he had forced himself to learn to control it. He never wanted to use it again for any reason, after all, he may have helped two people that he loved but he had, accidentally or not, killed two people to do it._

 _The ritual to remove the Hallows from his soul was completed, the problem was that unless he immediately gave them to someone else, which he would never do, they would be reabsorbed into him within minutes. Particularly because to get them out he would have to de-age himself, and not just superficially but truly de-age himself body mind and magic. only his soul and memories would be unchanged because souls were eternal and it wasn't like de-aging himself would make him forget. He needed to be young because between the ages of five and seven a person's magic goes through an enormous growing process causing it to be unstable. He would need that instability to loosen the hold of the Hallows and to create a path for them to get back out of him. His adult magic, after a lifetime spent protecting his life and soul, would never allow something that was actively protecting and strengthening his soul to be ripped free even if it actively fought against some of the side effects of their presence._

 _But it was a wasted effort if they would just snap back into him seven minutes later. But how to keep that from happening? Short of making a new Master of Death there was nothing in the world that would keep that from happening._

 _There was a thought. Nothing in this world. But what about a different world? There were rumors from the ritual department that it may be possible to open a portal to another world if a person had enough power. The only reason that nobody had tried it was that nobody had that much power. But Harry did._

 _He wouldn't even need anything from that world exactly. What if he just opened a portal threw the Hallows in and then closed it up again? The Hallows wouldn't be able to get back to him that way. It would be difficult, he would have to open the portal first before he removed the Hallows. He could use the powers the Hallows gave him to open the portal, remove them and then close the portal as a normal wizard. It took a lot less power to close a ritual than open it so he wouldn't need them anymore. He could then take an aging potion back to twenty-five and be on his merry way to live his life._

 _The only drawback was that where ever they ended up the Hallows would be just sitting there in a pile. The poor schmuk that picked them up was going to be in for a nasty shock. But that was their problem, Harry had had enough of the damn things._

 _Decision made he strode towards the rituals library to do some research._

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

 _Ritual room, location unknown:_

There they were in all their horrid glory. All three Hallows were sitting in a pile in front of him on the floor.

The magic around him was rapidly becoming unstable and he needed to hurry before the portal collapsed now that the magic he was supplying had been drastically reduced.

But he could hardly move. He was collapsed on his knees next to the Hallows panting with exertion. His vision was flickering in and out of focus and he was afraid he was going to lose consciousness at any second. But he had done too much, come too far, to give up now.

Forcing his loudly protesting body to move he grabbed a candle and used it to push the Hallows along the floor towards the portal, careful not to touch them. It was difficult to think much less move and his body was rapidly failing him. He was running out of time, though, the portal was already starting to flicker and collapse.

He pushed faster.

The Elder Wand started to skitter and roll across the floor, its shape making it go faster than the Stone and the Cloak, but Harry, panicking a little, quickly pushed it and the Stone until they were both on top of the Cloak. Jamming the candle down on the edge of the Cloak he dragged the whole unwanted mess to the edge of the portal and with one final triumphant push, he heaved them into the whole.

Falling back to his knees with a breathy laugh he swayed in elated disbelief.

He was free.

As the magic of the ritual finally failed entirely the backlash slammed into him sending him, too tired to catch himself, sprawling.

Right through the closing mouth of the portal.

He free fell for what felt like an eternity before landing on the ground of the alien world with a sickening crunch.

Right on top of the Deathly Hallows.

Between the sight of the portal above him closing for good, the rainbow magic of the Deathly Hallows gleefully sinking back into his skin to braid around his familiar soul, and the blinding pain of his severely broken limbs, Harry didn't notice the tall man who looked vaguely like Sirius looking mildly amused but mostly just sad and disappointed as he stood over over him shaking his head.

END

AN: And so Harry is now in the world of the Death Note, never to return from whence he came. He has one hell of a ways to go though so lets see how things work out. I only have the vaguest of plans for what I will inflict on my poor very reluctant hero. That being said, due to his age, and my amused and intrigued interest, I will not be pairing Harry with L. I am almost 100 percent sure that Harry will eventually be paired with Near. Just because I want to see what the heck that would look like. Of course in the beginning Near will be like... seven so lets build them their own weird little unhealthy friendship first instead. Growing up with an influence on his life will change who Near is just a bit, but not too much probably. It may be a few days while I plan out Harry's first steps in this weird new world so I hope this is good enough for now. Thanks, all in advance for reading! : D

P.S. I don't own Harry Potter or Death Note. Please don't sue me I am very poor.


	4. Archimedes Joins the Family

Every hospital on every planet, be it muggle or magical, smells exactly the same. Steril air and medicine clogged Harry's nose making him sigh in unhappiness. He knew he had better get over it fast though because he was going to be stuck here for a while no matter how much he hated it.

"Can I get you anything sweetie?"

Ah yes, the nurse was back now that breakfast was over. Nurse Jenny was a sweet girl, kind but a bit plain. Her dull brown hair was always tied back in a short ponytail and her hazel eyes were pretty if unremarkable. She had a penchant for brightly colored scrubs covered in cartoon characters that Harry mostly didn't recognize. Fresh out of school she hadn't yet worked at the hospital long enough to be as jaded as all of the older nurses were. She had taken a shine to Harry, always smiling at him and trying to get him to play games and chattering away endlessly.

Harry shook his head negatively.

He hadn't said a word in the three and a half weeks that he had been in the children's ward at The Royal London Hospital, having been airlifted there from a hospital near the hiking trail on Hadrian's Wall path.

It had been all over the news of course. Hikers investigating some strange flashing lights had found a naked battered little boy covered head to toe in a strange purple slime looking like he had taken one hell of a fall. After being taken to a small local hospital they had decided he needed more specialized care so they shipped him to London with a broken arm, broken leg, four broken ribs, bruised kidneys, a ruptured appendix, and a concussion.

According to the reporters, he was lucky to be alive. With him refusing to give his name and nobody coming forward to claim him people started referring to him as Hadrian after the place he had been found. It had startled him quite badly the first few times he had been addressed that way. It was also frustrating. Even when nobody knew who he was people were shocked at his survival and he couldn't stay out of the news! He didn't mind the new name much, though, he couldn't think of anybody he wanted to be less that he wanted to be Harry Potter. At least with the name Hadrian, he could separate himself from that without feeling like he was losing his identity completely though he probably wouldn't have picked it himself. At any rate, it would do until he found this world's wizarding world. It was odd though that the local Unspeakables had not come to investigate the ritual magic resonations.

Harry wasn't sure why he didn't want to talk to anyone, they were all being very kind to him after all, but he just couldn't. Every time he tried his throat would close up his eyes would water and he would end up hiding under his blankets. He seemed to have almost no control over his emotions. It was confusing and more than a little humiliating. He wanted to go home.

Home. Home was gone.

Nurse Jenny came over and began checking his stats. " You know sweetie", she said while writing down a few lines on his chart, " its a lovely day out why don't we brighten up this room a bit for you hmm? " After finishing with her work she walked to the window, scuffed white tennis shoes squeaking on the linoleum, and pulled the string for the blinds, flooding the room with cheerful sunlight.

" I know it's awful being stuck in here sweetie, I know you would rather be outside playing with your friends but I'm sure it won't be for much longer. Why I heard the doctors saying just yesterday how pleased they are with your healing. If you keep this up you will be out of here in no time at all." She said turning to him with a smile.

Sitting down in the chair next to his bed she began running him through his twice daily tests all the while keeping up her usual running commentary.

" Alright hon, deep breath and blow blow blow, a little longer.. and done. Good your pulmonary functions seem to be improving, how is your pain today?"

Harry, use to this process by now, held up seven fingers. It was almost time for his medications and the pain he had in his left arm and leg, he must have landed on his left side when he fell from the sky, was rapidly building though the worst of it was in his upper chest where he had three broken ribs on his left side at the top and another midway down on his right. This was another strange thing. He used to have an incredibly high tolerance for pain, now he seemed to be more sensitive to it than he had ever been. He desperately missed wizarding medicine that would have fixed him up completely within hours.

Nurse Jenny gave a rather unhappy nod to this and said, " Okay Hadrian, I'll see about your medication when we are done here alright?" She waited for him to give a tiny nod before continuing, " Now you have some x-rays planned for later this afternoon, I think that they have you scheduled with Doctor Williams. He is very nice sweetie and it won't hurt at all remember? So I don't want you worrying about that at all alright?" She didn't wait for him to respond this time before prattling on," Now tomorrow you have another MRI scan to check for lingering problems from your concussion. I know you didn't like that honey so I got you something that I think might help." she said.

She had gotten him a present?

Harry lifted his eyes from where he was staring at his hands on the blanket to peek at her through his bangs. The fact that he hadn't liked the MRI scanner was an understatement. Being stuck by himself in a cold bare tube that started banging at him like monsters were trying to burst through the side had upset him so badly that he had to be sedated to get him to stop crying and trying to climb out. He seemed to cry over everything recently, which was ridiculous, he had never cried at the Dursleys even though they had given him plenty of reason to and he had only cried at Hogwarts when Cedric and later Sirius had died. Why could he not seem to control himself now when he was relatively safe and knew better? He may be six but he was also seventy-seven, hardly a child! Why why why did that damn ritual have to demand he become a proper kid in every way? Why couldn't things have been easy for him, just this once?

Twisting his hands into his blankets, careful of the cast on his left arm, he gave a sniffle and pulled them up until they were bunched up under his chin wide eyes still turned toward the nurse.

She reached into the bag she had carried in that day and began rummaging through it while muttering to herself. "Let's see, here's this.. and this. Now, where is the other...? Aha found you!" Straightening up with a grin she placed the gift on his lap.

When Harry had arrived at the hospital three weeks before he had been in to much pain and too drugged up to be able to do much of anything. Because of this, he had ended up going through the hospital's rather extensive stack of Disney movies. The one he kept going back to was the slightly older movie called The Sword In The Stone. Harry had found the butchered history to be funny and the ridiculous portrayal of witches and wizards to be hilarious. Apparently, Nurse Jenny had caught him laughing (giggling) away at it enough times to realize that it was his favorite. Now sitting in his lap was his very own Archimedes owl plushy.

It was beautifully made, about 45 centimeters tall and made of numerous shades of brown downy fuzz that was cloud soft while its eyes glittered a black hard plastic that caught the light and made them almost look real.

He picked up the toy and, feeling a pleasant warmth in his chest, gave it a little squeeze. Why did people who didn't know him keep buying him owls? There was no way he would keep it, of course, he wasn't really a child after all, even if he really was, but why had she gotten this for him? Was it normal for hospital staff to spend their own money on their patients? How much did a nurse even make? Could she afford to waste her money on some random kid that wasn't even polite enough to speak to her? And speaking of manners...

Harry looked up at the only stable person he had in this strange new life and whispered "Thank you" for the toy that he didn't want. Plushies were for babies after all.

The next morning when Nurse Jenny popped in to check on her favorite and most adorable patient she would find him still asleep with Archimedes the owl wrapped possessively in his arms.

Gently setting down the Sword In The Stone coloring book and crayons she had brought for him on his side table, she pulled out her cell phone and snapped a picture of his slumbering form with a quiet coo before leaving him to his rest with a smile on her face.

* * *

Several weeks later Harry was contemplating his lot in life as he bent over his coloring book, brown crayon in hand, carefully shading in his Archimedes' paper doppelganger with smooth even strokes while holding his real Archimedes under his casted left arm.

There had been a social worker in to see him today about finding him a place to stay once he was discharged in a few days. It had been decided that he would be going to an orphanage right here in London just as soon as his casts were removed. A little alarmed by this he had softly, having progressed past complete self-imposed silence, asked what the orphanage was like. The social worker had been quick to reassure him that it was a pleasant sort of place and that the children there were well taken care of by the caretakers. Apparently, some rich man was funding the place and as such, they had to keep it running to his high standards. It sounded nothing at all like that dreadful place Tom Riddle had grown up in, and a lot less scary than anything the Dursleys had threatened him with. He supposed he could give it a chance. It wasn't like he was trying to get adopted after all. He wasn't a child and he refused to let himself forget it. He was in control of himself and he had control over his own actions. Just because he was six years old didn't mean he had to act like it.

With that decided, he smiled happily with his head tilted to one side and he held the now completed picture at arm's length to admire the results. Maybe he should give this one to Nurse Jenny he thought. With a decisive nod of his head, he carefully wrote at the bottom of the page To: Nurse Jenny From: Hadrian Peverell.

* * *

Hadrian and Archimedes moved into the orphanage with little fanfare.

It was a simple place. Clean and mostly quiet if you stay indoors and away from the screaming mass of children playing noisy games outside. Which he did. For all that he was failing in keeping his adult mindset, he couldn't relate to the children here in any way. He had no desire to run around chasing balls or waste his time in front of a television. He didn't want to "make friends" or " go out and play" as the caretakers tried to insist he do.

What Harry wanted was to find out why the Ministry had not come to question him on the huge amounts of magic he was releasing trying to draw their attention. Even a government at inept as the British one should have picked up on it and investigated by now, after all, he had let off enough magic that he could have powered the wards on Grimmauld Place by himself for a year if he had been back home no rune stones required.

Maybe they just did a better job of hiding in this world, he thought. Maybe they were just more cut off from the muggle world than the one he was from.

Maybe they weren't there at all.

Harry didn't want to believe it but he knew it was possible, or more accurately he didn't know what was impossible so he figured anything could be true. He was in a new world, did it have magic at all? He knew his magic was still there, if a little unhappy with him, but what if he was the only one? There were no guarantees.

He had tried to sneak away when they had taken him clothes shopping in hopes of finding Diagon Alley, but he hadn't been able to. The orphanage staff was a lot better at keeping a constant eye on the children than the Hogwarts staff ever was. They had known where he was the entire time they were out and had caught him immediately when he tried to subtly wander away. Later they had made him watch some awful stranger danger movie.

It was horrifying.

He would try again later, he decided. After all, it might not have done him any good regardless. Whose to say they alley was in the same place here? He supposed if worse came to worse he could just wait for his school letter to arrive. After all, even if things worked differently here they would still need to educate their children. Harry decided he wouldn't panic until his letter came, or didn't.

Until then there was a rather lot for him to learn.

When Harry had attended Hogwarts he had been a decent student, though not a spectacular one like Hermione had been. He had done more than well enough to get into Auror training anyway. Once the war had been over and the constant strain he had been living under had been removed he had found he rather enjoyed studying.

There was a lot more to being an Auror than he had expected. Naively he had thought that it was just hunting down dark wizards and the thrill of the fight. Maybe a bit of stealth and tracking. And there was a lot of that. But there was also so much more.

He had learned the value of everyday wards, and even small rituals that could be done at a moments notice. He had learned the value of passive charms, the type that you could cast on a person that would only activate under a specific set of circumstances such as spell fire. He ha thoroughly enjoyed learning about criminal psychology and profiling.

Law enforcement had become a freedom that the had never expected to have. Harry had been quickly shunted from the standard Auror duties and patrols straight to Kingsley's old department of murders and high profile cases. Harry had excelled.

He knew, of course, why he loved it so much. He was giving to others that which was never given to him. Justice. If Harry had his way children would not have to be the ones to apprehend criminals. Family's should not have to hide behind impenetrable wards for fear of their lives with no hope of outside help. Murderers should never be allowed to walk free. Harry wanted nothing more than to see the balance of justice reformed. It became his life, and he was good at it.

He would never forgive that idiot Ronald for stealing that away from him.

It hadn't happened all at once of course. Harry had been damn careful to not let people know that he was the Master of Death, going so far as obliviating Seamus and Simmons with the help of McGonagall, who was the only one who knew in the end. But it was only a few years before it was plain to anybody who looked at him that something was wrong. He had become the Master of Death at twenty-one, by the time he was twenty-five he had stopped aging, by the time he was thirty people had begun to notice and talk so Harry had actively begun avoiding his friends and family.

Not long after his thirty-first birthday, he had been approached by the Unspeakables. They offered him a place in their elite team of researchers. They had claimed they could help him understand what was happening to him, but Harry knew the truth. He could become one of the researchers or he could become that which they researched. Whether he liked it or not.

In being robbed his passion for justice he had gained an unexpected obsession. Arithmancy. Or really numbers in general. Numbers were cool, they were logical, they were useful. Numbers didn't favor one outcome over another or unnecessarily clutter up facts with distracting emotion. They just were, and Harry loved it. He had even snuck off to take various mathematical courses at muggle universities. His new found intelligence had seen him tearing through the classes far faster than Hermione could have ever wished to. It felt less like he was learning new information and more like he was inhaling it.

Eventually, he had come to enjoy other aspects of education, if to a lesser extent. While he had come to appreciate English and literature, history would always be nothing more than a passing interest. The sciences, entirely unsuited to wizarding life, he had never touched. He had wanted to but had instead gotten caught up in his numbers and rituals spending years on nothing else.

Now though Harry had nothing but time. He had at least five years before he could be accepted into a wizarding school if he even was, and his mind would grind itself into dust if he didn't keep it stimulated. He had been becoming more and more uncomfortable in the last month with nothing to stimulate his mind once the distraction of the pain had mostly passed. His only saving grace had been the time he had spent in his mindscape desperately hoping to find a way back home. He hadn't of course, he didn't have any of the supplies to redo the ritual, they had been difficult to steal as an Unspeakable so he had no hope at all of doing so now, but it had kept his mind stable at least. But after he had come to the undeniable conclusion that he was stuck, at least for now, his mind began rebelling. Without a distraction, the whispers in his mind became louder, harder to ignore. He had had one of his episodes, the worst 'migraine' the doctors had ever seen apparently, at the hospital. It had delayed his release by a whole week, so Harry was becoming desperate for a distraction.

Science it was then.

Instead of heading out to once more refuse to play with the other children Harry and Archimedes went to the orphanages surprisingly well-stocked library and immersed themselves into the world of beginning biology.

* * *

It wasn't so much tradition as it was mandatory at this point, the taking of the tests. Every child that came through the orphanage doors was required to take them. Apparently, the story was that the man who funded the orphanage, one Quillsh Wammy, had a number of requirements for the running of an orphanage bearing his name and the tests were one of them. The orphanage staff claimed that if a child did well enough on them Mr. Wammey would offer them a school scholarship to further their education.

Harry wanted one. Assuming that it was a scholarship to a boarding school he would walk on glass and do cartwheels through fire if it meant getting out of the orphanage for any sort of time. He had only been there for three months, they said they only administered the tests once the child was more comfortable with their environment, but he had already gone through most of the books available in the orphanage library. Harry was hooked on science and he wanted more.

The fact that the other orphans did not like him and often tried to steal and hide Archimedes had nothing at all to do with his desire to leave. Nope, not at all.

It wasn't his fault that they were all rather dumb and boring. He couldn't help it if he lost interest in what they were saying almost before they even opened their mouths.

He also could not help it that he wanted out of his boring classes. Addition and subtraction? Hop On Pop? Really? And they wouldn't even let him move to a higher grade. Something about needing to develop social skills. Like Harry cared about that. He wanted physics. He wanted nonlinear fractals. He wanted forensics damn it!

He wanted out of here.

So Harry decided he wasn't going to hold back on this test at all. Normally he would probably have tried to hide his knowledge, at least to an extent, but Harry... well Harry was getting desperate.

* * *

They tuned out to be a progressive kind of test. He sat in front of a proctor and filled out test pages that were designed to have no end. Starting at the most basic of information and getting progressively harder in each subject he would answer each question until he missed three in a row. There was even a section that had him look at a picture and try to recreate what he saw with different shaped and colored blocks.

He didn't do as well as he wanted to on some of it. As far as he could tell it had to do with common knowledge. He would look at a picture and say what they were. There were various musical instruments and electronic equipment that he simply could not identify. Then there were sayings that he had to explain the meanings to. He got some of those right, he knew, but the vast majority flew right over his head. Most of the slang he knew had to do with things like dragons and Merlin, not ravens and writing desks.

Other tests he breezed right through, actually running out of questions on the math, language, psychology (and wasn't that a strange thing to test a child in?), and Latin. He sort of wished that they had tested him in the French he had learned from the Delacour's. He had answered nearly all of the questions that pertained to science as well, only dropping out after making it through what he knew to be most of the secondary education curriculum.

All in all, he felt that he did quite well on the tests. He just hoped that he had done well enough.

* * *

Approximately ninety-seven kilometers away from the orphanage containing the newly christened Hadrian Peverell an alert went through the computer system of Quillsh Wammy letting him know that he had a new child genius to pick up for Wammy's House.

END

* * *

AN: So Harry will finally be going to Wammy's house nest chapter. I just needed to get all of this out of the way and give the House a reason to even know he exists. I realize Harry is emotionally unstable at best but all things considered, I think that he is handling things pretty well. The human mind is not built to go through all of the awful things that Harry has, add in the fact that he deliberately de-aged himself to the point in his life that he has the most trouble with his magic and I think that him not being unbalanced just a bit would be too inaccurate to write. It's taken this long to get the DN character in here because... well I'm not really in any hurry. I have few plans and I just want to see where this goes. I have a few major plot points that I know will happen but everything in between is going to write itself as it appears. By the way, I based that test off of a similar one that I had to take when I lived in a group home for a while. I don't know why they gave it, though, they never actually told me how I did. Oh well. I will try to write soon! thanks for reading! : D


	5. Mosquitoes Suck

Reading through the paperwork that contained everything that anybody knew about young Hadrian Peverell made Quillsh Wammy sigh in defeat.

Despite what many of the residents of Quillsh's pet project Wammys House thought he did, in fact, care deeply for each of his charges. While he freely admitted, when asked, that he wanted to push his residents beyond what they could have become if left to their own devices he also wanted to protect them from a world that absolutely did not appreciate genii.

Quillsh himself was a genius that had budded early and brightly. His ability to understand and improve any device that he had gotten his hands on even as a child had caused his peers to simultaneously despise him and attempt to use him for their own benefit. The adults that should have protected and even encouraged him were instead afraid of him.

Having been born right before the beginning of the second world war made things much worse for a young inventor. Anybody that drew attention to themselves intellectually had a tendency to disappear, often along with everybody close to them, even in London. Nobody talked about it but everybody knew. Quillsh was simply too young to understand at the time. It didn't help that most of his earlier inventions had a tendency to explode.

A young boy that could turn a battery into a bomb, even on accident, was prime kidnapping material for anybody looking to join the war. Young, naive, and easy to control particularly as an orphan with nobody to speak for him. Quillsh was lucky that his parents had been well off when they had passed and had left young Quillsh with the bulk of their estate. It had given him the ability to hide in his home with his nanny in relative if lonely, comfort.

He could not always get away from it, though. Many times he had been harassed by his peers or beaten bloody by "boys being boys" when he had made the mistake of showing off his intellect at the wrong time. It wasn't until he had become involved in the cold war, going undercover as a scientist and inventor for items used in espionage, that he had come into his own.

But his mind was getting away from him again.

The fact was that Quillsh had made it his mission in life to find and protect young genii from a world that didn't like it when children made them feel inferior.

And so, even though he had not known of young Hadrian's existence before his files had popped up in his computer he could not help but feel that he had failed.

Here was another young boy that had suffered at the hands of those around him. Apparently, even at the orphanage he was now in he was isolated from those around him, though that might be deliberate on Hadrian's part, Quillsh admitted. Many of the children in his care liked to hide themselves away from others. Often, though not always, it could be directly linked to mistreatment at the hands of others early on. The thought often broke his heart.

Shooting stars should be seen, not hidden.

Pulling himself to his feet he walked from his office and headed towards the front of the hotel he and L were currently occupying thankful that they were at least in England even if he was not looking forward to the drive from Edinburgh to London. He did like to collect the new children personally when he could.

Pulling out his cell phone he dialed the number of his London orphanage to let them know that he would be arriving.

* * *

Harry's first impression of Mr. Quillsh Wammy was that he looked older than he really was.

Allowing his green eyes to slowly look the man up and down as he took him in as best he could, Harry's mind quickly stripping what information it could as quickly as possible.

Mr. Wammy was clearly not just an inventor and philanthropist. His stance was all wrong for it. He stood like a man that had learned to expect a blow from any direction, and like he would be able to protect himself from it should such a thing happen. His clothing was expensive and neat, but just slightly off. It took a breath for Harry to realize what it was but a moment later he realized that had a gun on the inside of his coat. And, unless Harry was very much mistaken, those were throwing knives just barely peeking from his waste. He stood behind the desk the of third-floor meeting room one callused hand outstretched in greeting. Those hands, Harry noted were a fighters hands and quickly categorized him as a martial artist of some sort.

His short white hair had not receded much with age. The lines on his face spoke of a harsh life. But, and this Harry found the most significant, they also spoke of smiles and laughter. His bright hazel eyes glittered with affection and good humor. This threw Harry for a second until he realized that Mr. Wammy had noticed Harry noticing these things.

Blushing slightly Harry reached forward to shake the Mr. Wammy's hand.

* * *

Quillsh's first impression of Hadrian was that he was incredibly small. He would be by far the smallest of the, Hadrian included, twenty-seven children residing at Wammy's House. Terribly skinny and only about ninety-nine centimeters tall he wondered if Hadrian had been entirely honest about his age. He looked a bit younger than six. Those big amazingly green eyes and the tiny arms tightly clutching a stuffed owl did not help to make him look any older. Unfortunately, all they currently had to go on was police reports that Hadrian had apparently been rather uncooperative with. They would have to fix that, and quickly because not only did they need to have all the information possible but Quillsh had a special loathing for child abusers having seen the results on so many of his, and they were his, children. The fact that Hadrian had been found abandoned and injured with nobody stepping forward to claim him smacked of abuse. The child had certainly not injured himself that way, there was nothing around him that he could have been on and there was no way he had wandered anywhere with those injuries. If he hadn't been found when he was Hadrian would have died. Quillsh would see to justice being done even if he had to bribe L with extra cake to see it happen. Hadrian was one of them now after all.

Speaking of eyes, Hadrian's were apparently trying to use his to dissect Quillsh. He wondered how much Hadrian was seeing.

Watching Hadrian stiffen up he decided that the boy had, at least, found Quillsh's gun. Deciding to put an end to the inspection before it went south Quillsh held his hand out for Hadrian to shake.

He didn't.

Quillsh watched in growing amusement as Hadrian took in the state of his hand without seeming to realize why it was being offered. Another socially awkward genius? Perhaps. it was too soon to judge. Hadrian might just be wary. At any rate, this ability to observe was definitely something they should attempt to perfect.

As those green eyes finally peered up at Quillsh's face, curly black hair sliding over to slightly obscure his view, Hadrian finally seemed to notice that he was being scrutinized just as closely as he was scrutinizing and blushed bright red.

Finally having received his handshake Quillsh gestured toward the chair in front of the desk and reclaimed his own seat, ready to get down to business.

* * *

"Your placement test scores were very impressive Hadrian." started, shuffling through a stack of documents." It isn't very often one of our orphans here places as highly as you have." Apparently finding what he was looking for Mr. Wammy tugged several sheets of paper from amidst the packet glancing down at them briefly as if to remind himself what was written there, though Harry noticed that he didn't actually read them at all, " Your math score, in particular, were some of the highest that we have seen. If you don't mind me asking, where did you receive such extensive instruction?" he asked, hazel eyes peering at Harry curiously.

How was Harry suppose to answer that? _" Well, Mr. Wammy I learned it all when I was studying for my magical Arithmancy Mastery in another universe back when I was still an adult."_ Yeah, that would go over well. Instead, he replied softly, " I like to read." as if that would explain anything at all.

Giving a small laugh along with a slight nod of acknowledgment Mr. Wammy said, " Clearly, it reflects in your literature score. I suppose you read a lot of those sort of books as well? Mr. Peverell where on earth did you learn this much Latin? As far as I know only specialized schools teach it to children your age, did you attend one of them?"

This wasn't going at all how Harry had hoped. It was foolish of him, he supposed, to think that nobody would question where he had learned it all but all he had thought about was getting into a school that might actually challenge him. Even after all this time Harry was terrible at planning ahead, he had always impulsively lived in the moment no matter how many times it bit him in the arse. Like now for instance.

It was made harder by the fact that the longer he stayed in this universe the less connected he felt to his old one. It was a byproduct of the de-aging potion that he had taken, Harry knew. It was why he hadn't been able to allow his body to adjust before doing the ritual, his mind would not have been able to keep up. He could still remember everything, of course, his mind would not allow him to forget, but even now it was beginning to feel like it had happened to someone else. He knew he could still do all the magic that he had learned,(Or he would be able to once his magic was back under his control entirely, at the moment all he could seem to do on purpose was radiate it off of himself like a fire does heat.) and he could remember learning it, but he felt no connection to that process. As every day passed Harry was becoming less of a seventy- seven-year-old and more of a, extremely knowledgeable and admittedly genius, six-year-old and he didn't have the ability to stop it.

"No, sir." Harry answered instead," I'm self-taught." Which was mostly true. He had learned most of his Latin skills through spell work and only took the time to polish it up later. " I haven't attended any schools at all." Which would check out if it was looked into because other than the hospital and the police report Harry shouldn't have any records at all.

" But you want to attend a school?", Quillish asked," the caretakers here implied that you were eager to leave this place. I can make that happen if you would like."

Mr. Wammy looked like he was finally getting to the part he wanted to talk about.

" Which school would it be?" Harry questioned clutching Archimedes more tightly to his chest suddenly nervous. What if the school was as terrible? What if nobody liked him? What if he was bored there like he was here but couldn't get away?

Noticing Harry's sudden distress Mr. Wammy gave Harry a kind smile and told him, " I fund a special orphanage for highly intelligent children, of which I believe you fully qualify. Wammy's House is designed to help promote and feed the potential of the highly able and motivated. I think my institution would be a good match for you. If you are interested in such a place," He waited for Harry's eager nod, " then why don't we have some tea and I will tell you more about it?"

* * *

His arms were itchy.

Sitting in the back of Mr. Wammy's car Harry scratched idly at the mosquito bites on his right arm. It was annoying, he had never had so many of them in the summer before, though he supposed that he had always spent most of his time indoors so that was probably why.

It only took a few minutes for Harry to gather his few possessions together for the trip to Winchester. Annoyingly the orphanage caretakers insisted on having a small party to send him off. Harry couldn't help but feel that it was more of a celebration of his departure as even the staff rather disliked him by now if for no other reason then having him here gave them so much extra work to do with reining in the impulses of some of the nastier children. Why that was Harry's fault he didn't know or care but he was just as happy to see the back of them as they were him.

The two hours that it took to drive to Wammy's House orphanage was mostly silent so Harry took the time to think.

It was obvious that Mr. Wammy hadn't told Harry everything about the orphanage. The way he acted seemed like Harry was off to some nonmagical version of Hogwarts. Which raised Harry's curiosity immensely. He could tell that there was a secret here and he wanted to know what it was. He wasn't very worried though he had always been very good at sniffing out secrets, especially when they were practically dangled if front of him and would clearly have some kind of significant impact on his life.

Scratching at his leg now Harry wondered if this mystery would cause him as much trouble as the ones at Hogwarts did. He wondered if they would be as fun.

Mind lost in the adventures to come Harry quietly fell asleep in the back of Quillsh Wammy's expensive car.

* * *

Pulling up to the Wammy's House gate never stopped feeling like coming home. Ever since he had moved here after becoming too old for his nanny all those years ago he had decided that this, his grandfather's old sprawling manor, was where he would set down his roots.

Glancing back to examine Hadrian's reaction to the lavish building Quillsh was amused to see the red-cheeked boy was curled around his stuffed owl fast asleep.

Not having the heart to wake the clearly exhausted boy he instead drove silently into the roundabout in front of the manor's front door.

His old friend Roger Ruvie came strolling out the doors to greet him, white eyebrows raising over his spectacles and a small exasperated frown forming on his lips.

" Another one?" Roger asked, clearly displeased with the prospect. It was well known to Quillsh, and everybody else for that matter, that Roger didn't care much for children. Quillsh couldn't think of anybody on earth he trusted more to watch over them, though. "They seem to be popping out of the woodworks these last few years. Just tell me he is going to be less of a problem than Mello and Matt I beg you. Do you know what they have done this time?" Roger complained quietly.

"No," Quillsh replied, " but I am eager to hear what is sure to be an amusing story. Just allow me to settle this one in first. And no, incidentally, I don't believe that it is possible for him to cause that much trouble, he is a rather quiet child." Turning to open the back car door he asked politely, "Would you carry his bag while I get him? I believe that we should let him sleep for the few hours before he has dinner with the others he seems rather worn out. "

After handing Roger Hadrian's small bag Quillsh scooped the small boy into his arms, reminding himself to schedule Hadrians physical, he really was much too small. As he carried the boy into the house rather surprised that instead of waking from the movement Hadrian snuggled down further into the older man's warmth, soft toy clutched firmly to his chest.

"How old is he?" Rogers asked stealing glances at the child.

"Apparently six" Quillish replied.

Roger looked surprised. It was understandable. It was unusual, though not unheard of, for children this young to come to Wammy's if for no other reason than it usually took longer for a child genius to make enough waves to picked up on their radar.

Thankfully they did not encounter any of the other children on the way to Hadrian's new bedroom.

After depositing Hadrian onto his new bed to complete his nap the duo wandered away to have a chat before dinner.

* * *

Harry Potter was absolutely miserable.

He had been woken several hours earlier from a sodden sleep only to be informed that his presence was required at the dinner table. When he had decided that he didn't care and was going back to sleep anyway his blankets had been stolen and he had been gently pulled to his feet against his will by an old man, okay so it was Mr. Wammy, that was definitely a lot stronger than he appeared to be.

He had spent an unhappy supper not really eating and definitely not answering the, sometimes rather rude, personal questions of his fellow child geniuses. Harry didn't want to talk. He was tired and cover in mosquito bites and his head was beginning to hurt though mercifully not in the same way his 'migraines' did.

Standing from the table rather abruptly, more than eager to return to his wonderfully soft bed, Harry had been hit with a sudden dizzy spell. As his vision sparkled to back the last thing he had seen was a strange older man with light eyes that he hadn't yet met lunging to catch him as he fell.

And that was how he had ended up here, spending his first night at his new orphanage in the infirmary. Because those mosquito bites? They had nothing to do with mosquitos. They were chicken pox. They were everywhere and Harry hated them.

* * *

Two weeks after Harry's arrival he knew he his fears of the other children disliking him were wrong, the other residents of the orphanage didn't dislike him, they hated him.

It might have something to do with the twenty-one kids that were currently holed up in the infirmary covered in spots. Chicken pox was so contagious.

* * *

Watari, as he was currently called because he was helping L with yet another case, sat in front of his secure computer fighting a grin while typing the alias 'Harry" into Hadrian's files before L had the chance to choose one for him.

After all, it would not do to allow L to name the poor child 'Plague'. Hadrian had not meant to give L the chicken pox after all.

Finished with updating Hadrian's, now Harry's, files Watari wandered away to make L some more tea.

END

AN: I really couldn't help myself. The first thing Harry does at Wammy's? Why get them all sick of course! Sorry Harry, things will just never be that easy for you will they? Now, as I have had a number of people ask, This Will Be A Slash Fic. I'm sorry if that is not your cup of tea but I simply cannot write a heterosexual pairing. I don't like to think about my own lady bits, I don't want to write about somebody else's. As for Harry slowly succumbing to his physical age... it had to happen. The idea of having poor Near pork a man that considers himself to be nearly a century old totally squicks me out regardless of what Harry looks like at the time. Stephanie Meyer can screw herself it's gross. My Harry is not a pedo. Sorry for the boring transitional chapter but next chapter Harry meets Near! YAY! As to the ages of people.

Harry-6 Near-7 Matt-8 Mello-9 L- 19 Wammy- 65 it is currently 1997 for them

Death Note will happen but not for a while. Harry and the others have some growing to do first. And it might not follow the same timeline, I don't know yet. Thanks for reading! : D

PS I still don't own Death Note of Harry Potter


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